Harley and the Mole
by OyHumbug
Summary: In response to the Valentine's Day challenge at The Canvas, this ficlet is a fluffy piece that explores Jason's quest to find the perfect Valentine's Day gift for his wife. Craziness ensues, and he might just be the one who ends up suprised at the end.
1. Chapter 1

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part One**

Jason Morgan loved his wife.

Honestly, he did.

When he thought about it, he had to admit that it was pretty impossible not to love Elizabeth Morgan. She was kindhearted, generous, and loving. It didn't matter who it was, if someone was hurt or in need of help, she was always there, sometimes even to a fault. A great mother, she put the needs of their children ahead of her own needs, never resting until both Cameron and Jacob were happy and content. She worked hard as a nurse, loved hard as a mother and wife, and always seemed to be able to make time to play as well. Not only was she a beautiful woman on the inside, but, on the outside, it was safe to say that she had everything he needed to remain satisfied.

In fact, Elizabeth was pretty damn near perfect… at least in his book. Although she didn't condone or even support his lifestyle, she accepted it, no questions asked. When he came home hurt from work, she bandaged him up, kissed the wound better, and fed him gallons upon gallons of disgusting soup until he was well enough to fight back and escape her taunting clutches. If a job came up where he had to go out of town or had to stay out late, she was always understanding and sometimes even sympathetic, waiting up for him or at least making sure that there was something for him to eat in the fridge when he came home.

Hell, she even liked his bike.

So, that's why he felt guilty for constantly noticing her one and truly annoying flaw. His wife had a bad habit of never really stopping to sit down and eat a meal. She would nitpick at the kids' breakfast, skip lunch at work so that she could run errands during her break time, and, at night, when they sat down as a family for dinner, she had to worry more about making sure the food ended up in Cam and Jake's mouths and not on the floor or flung across the room. So, to combat her lack of meal time, she snacked. She snacked on goldfish crackers, something Jason himself had never even heard of until his son started to eat solid food, grapes, pretzels, star shaped cheese slices (what did they do with all those scraps?), and, most of all, candy. His wife was a candy addict with a sweet tooth the size of his right bicep.

They had been married for over a year, and it seemed like for every holiday, there was a candy for her to snack on. Easter brought duck and egged shaped sweettarts. How the woman ate the sour things, he'd never know. In the fall during both Halloween and Thanksgiving, she munched on candy corn, and, at Christmas, it had been red and green hued peanut M&M's. If there wasn't a holiday, she would find some kind of bite sized candy at the grocery store to fill her scrub pockets with. Sometimes it was starbursts, those, thankfully, had wrappers, sometimes, it was lemon drops, something even worse than sweettarts, and, other times, he would find her eating chocolate covered raisons at an alarming rate. Now, that Valentine's Day was less than a week away, she never went anywhere without her little, scripted candy hearts that he personally thought tasted just one degree away from being chalk.

The candy in and of itself wouldn't have been that big of a deal. After all, if Elizabeth wanted to rot her teeth out of her jaw, who was he to stop her? Thanks to her job, they had great dental insurance, and, other than giving her dentist a migraine every six months when she visited his office, there was no harm to her snacking away on sweets all day so long as she didn't pass the bad habit down to their kids. What bothered Jason was the fact that she habitually left the candy lying around the house, sometimes in the oddest of places.

He'd find it in their sheets at night when he was completely exhausted and all he wanted to do was collapse, cuddle up to his wife's soft, warm form, and fall asleep for at least six hours. He'd find it in the saddle bags of his bike, and it made him wonder if she put it there just in case they had a few moments to themselves and went for an impromptu ride to nowhere. He'd find it in his toolboxes, stashed away under the couch cushions, and accidentally dropped in his motorcycle boots. The kids were always complaining about ruined clothes, because his wife would forget about having candy in her pockets and would do a load of laundry with purple sprees and burnt red Boston baked beans hidden away in the confines of her scrubs. He'd even once found jellybeans tucked away in his padlocked gun box. How? At that point, he hadn't even cared enough to ask. It was simply par for the course. His wife's candy was everywhere in their house; of course, it would one day find it's way into the steel lock box he kept his spare glock in.

Luckily, on the grand scale of life, Elizabeth's little flaw wasn't really important, and their lives continued at a normal pace for a happily married couple. Sure, they fought. She would become annoyed with him for his _typical male tendencies_ as she called them – leaving the toilet seat up, tracking mud all throughout her clean house, or forgetting to stop by the grocery store to pick up a gallon of milk so the kids could have cereal for breakfast the next morning. And, in turn, he would get irritated with her for always harping on him to pick his dirty clothes up at night and put them in the hamper, and he hated it when she would use the last of the toilet paper and not put a new roll on the ring. Generally, though, they were a happy family, and, with Valentine's Day approaching, he was only reminded of how much he loved his wife.

Although he wasn't into the holidays and despite the fact that he found them rather inane and ridiculous, the fourteenth of February held special significance to Elizabeth. Since the very first Valentine's Day they were together back when Jake was still just a baby and they were hiding their relationship from the rest of the world, he tried to make the holiday special for her. Not that anything he would ever do could erase the horrible memories from when she was fifteen, but, if he could make her forget about her rape for a few hours, if he could add good memories to a day that once only brought her sadness and pain, then Jason would do anything and everything within his power to do so.

This year, though, he had no idea what to get his wife, and it wasn't like he could get away with a dozen roses, a box of chocolates, or even a piece of jewelry… not that he'd want to. Long ago in their very complicated and very lengthy past, Elizabeth had once told him that he was the most original gift giver, and, since then, he always tried to live up to his reputation. The more meaningful, the more unique the gifts were that he gave his wife, the more she cherished them, and the look on her face when he surprised her was well worth the hours of thought that went into every little trinket or remembrance that he purchased for her. Jason was determined that this year, that this Valentine's Day, would be no different.

Sitting in one of the non-descript, practically unidentifiable sedans the organization owned, he relaxed back into the driver's seat he was occupying, kept his eyes trained on the motel door before him, and pondered the various things Elizabeth said she wanted or needed and the things he felt she should have. With his mind both occupied on the stakeout job before him and the mental task at hand with coming up with a gift for the mother of his children, time seemed to pass by quite quickly, helping ease the monotony of his day.

At midnight, relief would come in, and he would be able to go home. Although the kids would both be asleep, Elizabeth might still be up waiting for him, and, after not seeing his wife since that morning when she and the boys had left for the hospital with Francis, he was eager to pull her into a tight embrace and kiss away any signs of exhaustion marring her otherwise flawless face. That's what – going home to Elizabeth, Cameron, and Jake – made his hours doing nothing but sitting in a car and waiting for a new enemy to make a move worth every last tedious second.

Glancing at the clock, the father of two realized that it was past five which meant that his family would be at home, and he would be able to reach Francis on his cell for an update. Hitting speed dial three, the only two numbers above the elder guard's being Elizabeth's cell and their home number, he waited, albeit impatiently, to hear his friend and employee's deep, always pleasant… unless you pissed him off, and Jason knew better than to do that… voice on the other end.

"Before you even ask," the guard prefaced his next statement, "they're all fine. Elizabeth's in the kitchen cooking dinner, Cameron's upstairs doing his homework, and Jake is trying to get Harley outside to play in the snow. By the way, hello to you, too, boss."

Despite himself, Jason laughed silently. "Very funny, Francis. Do you always have to give me a hard time?"

"You mean, it's not in the job description? Damn," the older man grumbled, his sarcasm well hidden but still evident, "I could have sworn that was one of the prerequisites on the bodyguard application I filled out for you and Mr. Corinthos years ago."

Ignoring him because, if he didn't, the dark haired man could go on for hours, the father of two asked, "how was Cam's day at school?"

"Pretty uneventful or so the little guy said," his family's main security lookout explained. "He got an _A_ on his spelling test, beat Morgan at the 100 yard dash when they raced in gym, and painted his Mom another _interesting _picture in art class."

"Is it hanging up on the fridge so I can see it when I get home and Elizabeth can explain it to me?"

"As far as I know," Francis assured him. "As for Jake, he was better behaved today in daycare according to Andrew. There was no glaring, so no parents had to be called down to sooth their frightened kids."

Watching through a pair of binoculars as his target opened his motel door far enough to pay the pizza boy, Jason grinned at the story about his youngest son. "I have no idea where he gets that from."

"We'll blame it on the unfortunate Q genes he unwillingly inherited," the bodyguard quipped, earning himself a rather loud guffaw by his boss.

"And Elizabeth?"

"Her day went… alright."

The husband and father knew that tone. "What are you not telling me?"

"It's no big deal," his family's protector reassured him. "I just noticed that she was a little off today."

"What do you mean by off?" He knew there was no reason to be worried, that if something was seriously wrong with his spouse, she would come to him and tell him about it herself, but, if anything, Jason was protective, and it was entirely possible that he was a tad overprotective. Just a tad, though, - a smidgeon, perhaps.

"I don't know," Francis finally elaborated. "She just seemed a little snippy with her coworkers and slightly fed up with her job."

"Well, if you worked with those immature idiots, you'd have your bad days, too. Not everyone is as lucky as you to have a boss like me."

"Truer words," the guard mocked, "have been spoken… many, many, many times before."

"So, you're unhappy with your employment? Was that your own unique way of turning in your two week's notice?" After sharing a laugh which replaced the need for the older man to answer Jason's joking, rhetorical question, the dirty blonde changed the topic and refocused their dialogue upon his family. "Don't worry, though. I'll talk to Elizabeth, poke around to make sure that everything's alright."

"You're a good husband, Jason. I knew you would."

"But, other than that, everything's okay?"

"Everything's great around here," the bodyguard reiterated his previous judgment from before. "I'll be here until you get off, and, when I leave, Milo is going to be replacing me. How's everything on your end going? Any change?"

"No, the bastard still has himself holed in like a rat. At this rate," the father of two groused, "it could be days before he makes a move."

"And you'd rather he just do whatever it is he has planned and get it over with so that you can make your next move and take him out?"

"Yeah," Jason agreed with his friend's assessment of his work theories, scrubbing a strong, tan hand over his stubble covered jaw, "especially with Valentine's Day coming up. If the bastard's still hiding out by then, I'm going to have to call someone in to take over my shift watching him so I can spend the day with Elizabeth."

"Do you have something special planned for the Mrs.?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it," he confided.

"Alright, sounds good, but I have to go. It's time for my perimeter check."

"See you later, Francis," Jason signed off, hanging up his phone.

Tossing the small cell back onto the passenger seat before him, he picked up his binoculars and went back to work, concentrating his mind on figuring out what to get Elizabeth for Valentine's Day. He had less than a week to figure his gift out, get it ordered, and get it delivered, and, if nothing else, he would make damn sure it was original. After all, Elizabeth, even with her candy obsessed bad habit, deserved nothing less.


	2. Chapter 2

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part Two**

He hated when Jason did that - asked his opinion about something that had to do with Elizabeth. Not that he didn't like his charge, because he honestly did. Unlike some of the women he had been employed to watch over in the past, Mrs. Morgan was not a pain in his ass. She wasn't demanding, she wasn't rude, and she wasn't purposefully uncooperative. It was quite refreshing to stand guard over someone who actually listened to him. Shit, she was even nice to him. If it was cold out, she brought him some coffee, fixed exactly how he liked it, or, if it was hot out, she brought him ice water or cool, refreshing lemonade. On his birthday, she baked him a cake and insisted that Jason give him the day off, and, at Christmas, there were always a few presents under the Morgan family Christmas tree reserved solely for him.

However, that did not mean that he was her confidant or that he understood women. He was a bachelor, dedicated to staying single for the rest of his life. He had escaped one busybody of a woman when he moved out of his mother's house at the age of nineteen, and he refused to ever risk living with another one. And he most certainly didn't understand _girly _issues. He knew that _things _came up once a month, and he also knew how to make himself scarce during those tense set of days, but, other than that, he was pretty much clueless. So, how the hell was he supposed to know what was up with Elizabeth?

He should have just said nothing, allowed her to confront Jason whenever she was ready to, but he was paid to be observant, and he was paid to report on anything that seemed amiss, even if that had to do with his charge herself. And, when he thought about it, all he could tell was that she was acting differently, more emotional, and that was saying something considering the fact that he found all women to be emotional. No one was as bad as his mother, and, compared to some other women he had known, Elizabeth was one of the more tolerable ones of her sex, but even she sometimes had the occasional freak out or crying jags. Luckily, when she was slightly off kilter, he simply called Jason, and his boss dealt with his wife himself, but, when the younger man was on a stakeout for twelve hours everyday, there left little time for him to see or even talk to Elizabeth.

Returning to the front porch where he stood sentinel every evening, Francis leaned back against a wooden railing and inhaled deeply. For another hour, he was assured that the perimeter was secure, and, for another hour, he could relax and let his mind wander away slightly from escape routes and vantage points.

It had taken him and most of the other guards for surprise when the news of Jake's paternity had been revealed to all of Port Charles. Other than a few select individuals in the organization, mainly Mr. Corinthos, Max, and Diane, everyone else had been in the dark about Jason's son, so, when he went from occasionally guarding Carly and the boys to being Elizabeth, Cameron, and Jake's full time security expert, determining who their guards would be, what precautionary measures would be put into place for the young family, and, in general, keeping them safe so Jason could focus on his own aspects of the job, it had been quite a shock to his otherwise stagnant system but a pleasant one nonetheless.

He had to admit, though, despite his initial disbelief at the turn of events, his younger boss seemed to be made for being someone's husband... well, not just anyone's husband but Elizabeth's, and for being a father. Elizabeth and Jason had a good marriage, and both boys adored the blonde enforcer. He was patient with them, kind and gentle, and, unlike the guard's older boss, he knew how to still love his children but parent them at the same time, giving them boundaries and teaching them manners, the rules of society, and importable, valuable life lessons. It was a refreshing difference and change of pace.

And Cam and Jake were both great in their own rights, too. The older boy was calm and reserved, a shocking combination of traits considering he was biologically Zander Smith's son, and the younger Morgan boy was anything but. Always rambunctious and with enough energy to bottle and supply a small country, Jake kept Jason, Elizabeth, Cameron, and all the guards on their toes. He and Harley were always up to no good, finding mischief where no on thought any mischief could be found. At three and a half, he had already been suspended from daycare, and there was a chair the teachers kept reserved there just for him. It wasn't that he was a mean spirited child or even a misbehaving one; he just sometimes got some pretty wild ideas. His father said he got it from his mother, and his mother liked to blame it on the same, always ubiquitous Quartermaine genes everything from not sleeping through the night as a baby to glaring as a toddler were blamed on. In fact, Elizabeth swore that Jake was giving her grey hair, and Jason had declared on more than one occasion that his youngest son was going to cause him to pull his own hair out one day. Francis still saw no evidence of either claim, but he kept that observation to himself.

All in all, he liked his job. It was certainly better than those the other senior guards occupied. Milo was stuck chaperoning Michael in high school, accompanying him to each and every single class the teenager was enrolled in, and Max got the unsavory task of protecting Sonny's flavors of the month. Needless to say, there were many flavors, and not very many of them either appreciated the guard's presence in their lives or respected them. Of the three of the senior guards, Francis had faired the best, so he would gladly put up with puzzling female issues rather than trade one of his friends for spit wads and lunch ladies flirting with him or shopping bag holding duties. Yes, he would most definitely stay where he was, and he would enjoy the benefits of guarding Jason's family, making sure he rubbed all those said benefits in nice and good with his fellow coworkers.

"Hey Francis," Cameron Webber's soft voice broke through his revelry, making the tall, dark haired guard glance down at the little seven year old. He really had to stop doing that, sneaking up on him, or else Francis was going to have to start questioning his awareness levels.

"Squirt," he returned, ruffling the same chocolate brown curls the kid shared with his mother.

"Mom wanted me to come out and ask you if you wanted any dinner."

"What'd she make tonight?"

Immediately Cameron's small face wrinkled, showing his displeasure with the meal he was about to eat. "Pot roast and a bunch of vegetables, but she made brownies for dessert."

"Aw," the bodyguard's eyes lit up as he teased the child, "your favorite."

"I know," his young charge agreed most readily. "Do you wanna make a deal?"

"Well, I'd at least listen to what you had to offer," he mused, playing along and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What is it exactly that you're putting out on the table?"

"How about you come in and eat dinner with us, I'll sneak you all my carrots, and then, as a trade, I'll get Mom to give you two brownies instead of just one."

"That's a mighty tempting offer, Cam, but you know that I can't leave my post."

"I know," the little boy, sighed, scuffing his shoe against the wooden flanks of the porch. "It sucks."

"Hey, now, you know your parents don't like you using that word."

"Sorry Francis," the seven year old mumbled his apology. Afterwards, they both fell silent for several moments until, "hey Francis?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Do you... uh... do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," the bodyguard was quick to reassure the little tyke. "Absolutely not."

"Good," Cam grinned. "Girls have cooties."

"An astute observation, my friend," Francis agreed with him. "But, if you don't mind me asking, why did you want to know."

"Well," the small child revealed, "you know that Valentine's Day is coming up, right?"

"I've heard it was rolling around again."

"Well, you're supposed to get the girl you love something special, a present, and I was kind of hoping that you had a girlfriend so that you could help me figure out what to get the girl I love," Cameron confessed.

"Squirt, do _you_ have a girlfriend?"

"Ew, Francis, no," the little boy protested, giggling. "I wanted to get something for Mommy."

"Oh, I see." And he did. At first, the security expert had been slightly lost. This was one of those conversations he really wished Jason was home to have with his son, but, since he wasn't, he would do what he thought his boss would want him to do in the situation. "I think Jason will probably take care of getting your Mom a present."

"Well, yeah," Cam agreed, "because he loves her, too, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Why don't you take care of the card. You know that Jason always forgets that part, and, even if he didn't, you know that you're better with drawing, and pictures, and stuff like that. So, you make the card, have your little brother help you," the dark haired man instructed, "and Jason will handle buying the gift."

"Okay, thanks, Francis."

Clapping the seven year old on the back, the bodyguard grinned at him. "No, problem, kid. Now, you better get inside and eat your dinner - even the carrots - so we don't get in trouble with your Mom."

"Good idea." With that, the child turned back around and went inside, but, just as he was about to slam the front door shut, he yelled, "night," as was his custom. Never an evening passed without the second grader telling him goodnight in some capacity, and, even for an old self-proclaimed bachelor like himself, it felt good to know that the little boy he looked out for cared for him as well in return. As soon as his boss' oldest son disappeared, the quiet returned... or so he thought.

"Hey Francis?"

"Yes, Cameron," the guard responded, turning around to face the ever-curious little boy. He found him with the deep blue door pulled open just wide enough for his little head to fit through.

"Have you noticed Mom acting funny lately?"

At least he wasn't the only one. Instead of saying that, though, he asked, "what do you mean?"

"I don't know," the seven year old shrugged, rubbing the side of his cheek as he thought. Francis couldn't help but notice that it was a trait the child had picked up from his step-father. "I guess she's just been even more like a girl lately."

He couldn't help; he laughed, and he laughed long and hard. It was just something that he could have seen himself at least thinking if not saying as a child about his own mother, and it made the forty-something year old man wonder if he was passing along a few of his own trait to the boys he helped watch over. If so, he just hoped they were his better ones, ones that wouldn't get him in trouble with his very protective boss. And, just like that, realization dawned. He remembered how much Jason had always tried to shield Elizabeth from not only his business but also from the general horrors of life. Although he never knew the details of why, he and all the other guards knew that something very painful had happened to the pretty brunette when she was just a young girl and that the very painful something just so happened to occur on Valentine's Day. It had to be the reason as to why Elizabeth was acting so strangely. She was simply recalling a period in her life she would, regrettably, never be able to forget.

"You know, Squirt, I think she's just kind of sad." Unsure of how to explain something he didn't fully understand himself, to Francis, it felt as if he was walking on a sheet of ice. One misstep, and he was going to fall and end up down for the count. Not only did he feel the need to protect the little guy from the lingering anguish of his mother's haunting past, but he also didn't want to overstep his boundaries as just the bodyguard. "It's nothing you, your brother, or even Jason did. Sometimes women just get sad."

"Like how sometimes Sonny gets mad?"

"Yeah, but not as often," the dark haired man clarified, quite happy that he managed to avoid that ticking time bomb, at least for the foreseeable future. "Now, get inside, kid," he playfully ordered, motioning with his hands. "You're letting all the cold air in."

Returning the teasing, the seven year old intelligently responded, "or giving you some of the warm air."

"Eh, I'm tough. I don't need it."

Giggling, the little boy shut the door again, but, as he closed it, the guard could hear his response. "Whatever you say, Francis. See you tomorrow!"

And he would, because Francis was always there. Every afternoon, he picked Cameron up from school, and the two of them then drove to the hospital where they met and escorted both Elizabeth and Jake home. It was routine, and he had a feeling he wasn't the only one who liked the steadiness it brought to all their lives. It was just another thing he and the kid happened to have in common.


	3. Chapter 3

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part Three**

Sometimes being a big brother really sucked. While, sure, it had it's advantages, for instance, he was always the boss when it came to things between him and Jake, it also meant that he had responsibilities towards his younger sibling... or so his mom told him. She made him watch out for Jake, and she was constantly telling him that he had to act like a big boy to set an example for his little brother, and that meant he had to share his toys, hold Jake's hand, and help him do things only babies couldn't do on their own like get ready for bed or brush his teeth. Sometimes, he found himself wishing Jake would go on a really long vacation and that he would take his stupid Harley with him.

Cam had wanted a pet, so, on his seventh birthday, Jason had taken him to the pound. There, he had picked out a puppy - a big, drooling, _boy,_Great Dane puppy. They brought the dog home, set up its kennel and food dish, and, in less than an hour, both the dog and its belongings were loaded back into the SUV and taken back to the pound. Jake had been allergic to dogs, Jake's entire body had broken out in itchy, red hives, and Jake was the one who had ruined Cameron's seventh birthday.

Instead of a dog, he got stuck with a stupid cat - a lazy, hissing, _girl_cat that ended up liking his little brother more than him. Jake had even gotten to name their pet, and his stupid brother had named the cat_Harley_after his dad's motorcycle. While Cameron might have still been a little kid, he knew that a Harley Davidson was a boy thing, so he had fought with his brother to change the cat's name, but Jake had cried, he had thrown a fit, and their mother had sat them both down and explained the idea of a compromise. Well, as far as Cameron was concerned, with a younger sibling, compromise meant he got nothing and his little brother got everything.

And, now, Harley, despite really being _his_pet, followed Jake around. The two were inseparable, best friends. When Cameron tried to pet the cat, she scratched him and ran crying to Jake, purring contentedly as soon as his brother reached down a chubby, dirty hand to pet the stupid thing. She slept in Cameron's room, she sat underneath Cameron's chair at dinner time, and she even stayed in the bathroom with the three and half year old when Jake was taking a bath despite the fact that cats were supposed to hate water.

At least, if they had a dog, the dog would eat the table scraps... like carrots... that he didn't like, but, no, not Harley. Harley didn't like human food. She wouldn't eat his vegetables for him, she wouldn't drink his milk in the morning after he finished his cereal, and she wouldn't even lick off his plate so it made washing his dishes at night easier. Cameron was convinced that a dog would have done all those things for him, so it was just another reason to not like his annoying little brother.

Then there was Jason.

While Cam might not understand most of the things the adults around him said, he definitely understood the fact that he really wasn't Jason's son. Although his step-father didn't treat him any differently than he did Jake - he told him that he loved him, he tucked him in and kissed him goodnight when he was at home for their bedtime, and he would buy him just as many presents as he did his little brother, his younger sibling got to call Jason Dad and Cameron didn't. He knew that he shouldn't really blame Jake for the fact that he didn't have a dad, but he couldn't help it. To him, it was unfair.

His biological dad, whatever that meant, had died before he was even born, and, then, there was Lucky. Lucky was supposed to be his dad. He had married his Mom, he had helped raise Cameron for several years, and he had even called the cop _daddy_for a while, but, then his _parents_got divorced, Lucky disappeared, and Cameron was no longer his son, leaving the little boy without a dad... again. When Jason came into their lives, his Mom always referred to him as Jake's Daddy, and, after a while, Cam had asked why Jason wasn't his dad, too. Both his Mom and his step-father had sat down with him and told him about his real dad, and Jason had even offered to be Cam's dad as well, but he had refused. After losing two dads, he didn't want to risk losing another one, even if that meant he kept calling Jason - Jason and remained, himself, Cameron Webber instead of Cameron Morgan.

And then, now, on top of everything else - his stupid little brother always ruining things for him and not really having a dad, his Mom had to go and start acting weird. Francis said she was sad, but that it didn't have anything to do with him, Jake, or even Jason, but that still didn't explain to him why his Mom was crazier than normal, why she always either sleeping or cleaning, or why she was waking him up every night by going the bathroom about a gazillion times.

Snorting irritably, he made his way up the stairs, stomping his feet against each riser, making sure his steps were as loud as possible if only to tell his mom just how mad he was at everyone and everything. Stupid baby brothers, stupid cry-baby, hissing cats, stupid fathers, and stupid girls!

Making his way into the bathroom he shared with his younger brother, Cameron got ready for bed. Jake was already supposed to be asleep, but he knew better. While his Mom might be too distracted to notice the soft sounds of the three and half year old's laughter from behind the closed bedroom door, he wasn't, and, as he took his bath, silently contemplating just how many times he would be able to get away with pulling Harley's tail the next day without getting yelled at, he could hear every single giggle his brother made, every single word he said to _his_ ugly, fat, _girl_ cat.

And he couldn't wait to get him in trouble.

With motivation inspiring his actions into a faster pace, Cameron made quick work of bathing, purposely _forgetting_to wash behind his ears, scrub between his toes, and simply skipping using shampoo. As long as his hair was wet, his Mom would never know that he didn't actually wash it, and one day with dirty hair wouldn't kill him. After all, he was a boy, a man even, and men were supposed to get dirty. Jason did. When he worked on his motorcycle, he always came home with stained t-shirts and grease underneath his fingernails. Instead of making him shower, though, his Mom would always smiled at Jason when he was dirty, giving him a hello kiss... which was gross, and making him promise to take her out for a ride after they, the kids, went to bed while the guards watched them. And Jason always agreed. If Jason being dirty made his Mom so happy, then he could get away with it, too.

After finishing in the shower, he jumped out, not bothering to dry off before throwing on his pajamas - a plain pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Before, he always wore pajamas with cartoons on them, like Jake still did, but, last year when his Mom married Jason, he had switched, because Jason didn't wear cartoon pajamas, and, since he was going to be a tough guy just like his step-dad, he didn't want to wear them anymore either. That was one battle his Mom didn't fight him on. However, she didn't let him cut his hair, telling him she loved his _little, adorable curls_, so he couldn't spike his hair like Jason. Jake was allowed to, though - his stupid, baby brother.

Quickly, he brushed his teeth, focusing just on the front ones in case his Mom checked them. He knew she'd never look at the back teeth, so he was safe to rush through the twice a day ritual. He also skipped taking his fluoride, flushing the toilet, and picking up his dirty clothes. If he was lucky, his Mom wouldn't check the bathroom, and he could simply do it in the morning before she even had a chance to catch him. So, satisfied that he had done enough to pass his Mom's nightly inspection, the soon-to-be eight year old left the bathroom, a mischievous grin making his impish face look almost naughty. But the smile immediately fell, and, to replace it, a dark, annoyed frown turned the corners of his little mouth downward, almost to the point where he was sneering.

The good news was Jake was out of bed; the bad news was that his little brother was, instead, sneaking into _his_ room, with _his_ traitor of a _girl_cat, Harley, right on his heels. Running after the three and half year old and his best friend, Cameron caught up with the devilish duo just as they snatched _his_ private, hidden stash of candy hearts. While their Mom tried to make sure that they didn't eat that much candy, she always left her own sitting around the house, within easy reach of his hands. While Jake was still too short to get into most of their mother's hiding spots, he wasn't, and he was also big enough to drag around furniture to stand on if he needed to. However, Jake made up for his size by being so stealthy.

"That's mine!"

Jake grinned; Harley hissed. "So?"

"So, that means you can't take it, dummy."

Reaching for the Valentine's Day candy anyway, his younger sibling dropped the tiny hearts into both the left and the right pockets of his_Garfield_pajama pants. "Can, too," was his only retort, ignoring his angry, older brother.

"Fine, but if you take it, I'm going to tell Mom."

Cameron knew it was an empty threat, but he hoped that Jake didn't realize the fact. Of course, he wasn't going to tell their mother. If she knew that Cameron took her candy, he would get in trouble and Jake wouldn't, and that just wasn't an option. So, instead, he was going to try to bluff his way into getting his candy back, but he should have known better. Even at three and half, Jake was already better at playing games than he was. While Cam might have been the quiet, intelligent, calm child, Jake was crafty, and, in their sibling battle of wills, crafty seemed to always win.

It was just another reason he hated his stupid little brother.

"Nah uh," Jake argued, sticking his tongue out at Cam before running right past him out of the blue, sports themed bedroom. Harley followed, managing to reach up a clawed paw to snag Cameron's pajamas before scattering out of the room as well. By the time the almost eight year old followed and found his little brother in the bedroom next to his own, Jake had already hidden the candy somewhere and was pretending to be asleep.

"Give it back."

"Make me, Cammy."

And another reason he didn't like his little brother was that stupid,_girly_ nickname Jake always called him. What was with Jake and giving boys girl names and girls boy names? It was just wrong.

"If I make you, you'll just cry like a stupid baby, and then you'll tattle on me, and I'll get in trouble."

"So?"

"So," Cameron repeated his siblings snotty-nosed, bratty question. "Boys aren't supposed to tattle. Just give me back my candy. Now, Jake."

"Finders keepers, losers suck."

"You know that Mom and Jason don't like us saying that word."

His little brother simply rolled his eyes, making Cam even angrier. "Whatcha goin' to do about it, Cammy, tattle on me?" And, then, he giggled.

"Ugh, you are so... so... stupid! I hate you, and I hope that Mom never has another stupid baby like you again!

Yelling back at him, Jake returned, "you're the stupid baby."

"Shut up," the seven and a half year old ordered. "Do you want Mom to hear us? We'll get in trouble."

"Shut up! Do you want Mom to hear us? We'll get in trouble."

Giving up on getting his candy back and so mad he was ready to forget about the punishment and, instead, focus on how good it would feel to just go off and punch his little brother, Cameron walked forcefully out of his only sibling's room and back into his own.

Sometimes, he really wished he lived with Francis - just the two of them, both bachelors, with no stupid little brothers, no stupid cats, no stupid fathers, and no stupid girls. But, if he lived with Francis, he would miss his Mom and Jason, and he would never get to eat brownies or go for rides on Jason's motorcycle, so, on second thought, sometimes, he really wished Jake lived with Francis.

Yeah, that worked.

It was a good thing he only had one little brother, because one was more than enough. Closing his eyes to go to sleep, his small fists still clenched in anger over losing his precious candy stash, Cameron thanked his lucky stars for the fact that his Mom and Jason only had two kids. If they had more, he knew he would go crazy, and he really didn't want to end up like Jason's friend Carly. Even putting up with Jake was better than that... but barely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part Four**

He knew that he shouldn't tease his big brother, he knew that it made Cameron mad, and he knew that his Mom would be very upset with him, but he couldn't help himself. His older brother was always so quiet. He would rather sit outside in the cold and talk to Francis than go up to the playroom and play with him and Harley. Cameron liked trains, and books, and watching his Daddy work on his motorcycle; he didn't like playing army or sports with him. All his friends in daycare who had older brothers and sisters told Jake about how their siblings would play with them, but his brother wouldn't. So, if Cam wouldn't play, Jake made sure he did at least one thing with him, even if it was fighting. Besides, it was fun to fight with his big brother.

Cameron always got mad and would yell and stomp his feet, and his face would turn a silly color of red that would make Jake giggle. When he got angry, he reminded him of their Mom. She did the same things when she was mad at his Daddy, but, for some reason, unlike his brother, his Mom didn't stay mad at his Dad for very long. Somehow, his Dad would make her smile again or laugh, and then they'd kiss and make up, and everything would go back to normal. It was gross, but his parents seemed to like it, so he didn't cry about it too much. But Cam, he stayed mad for a really, _really_ long time. It wasn't that Jake wanted to kiss him to make everything better, because kissing was nasty, and slobbery, and only girls liked it, but he just wished that his brother played with him more.

So that's why he was determined to get his Mommy and Daddy to give him a little brother for his birthday. He would be turning four in May, so Jake felt that he was old enough to be a big brother - a much better one than Cam was. He would always play with the baby, sharing his toys and even letting him pet Harley sometimes, too. They could make pud pies together after it rained and throw them at the little neighbor girls, they could use his walkie-talkies to spy on Cameron together, and he would even share the candy that he took from his big brother with the baby. If Cam would only ever offer to share with him, then Jake and Harley wouldn't be forced to sneak his away from him, but he never did. Lucky for the baby he wanted for his birthday, Jake wouldn't be that mean to his little brother. Nope, he would be the bestest big brother in the whole world... just as long as his Mommy and Daddy didn't give him a little sister.

He wanted nothing to do with a baby sister. What would he do with one of them? They'd only want to play dress up or have tea parties, and he knew that guys didn't drink tea. Francis had told him. He had said that men had to drink coffee, because it put hair on their chests, and women drank tea because it didn't. Well, he wanted hair on his chest, and, even when he got some, tea cups were always pink or purple, and those were girly colors. He hated girly colors. But he knew that he didn't have to worry about it. If he asked his parents for a baby _brother,_then that is what they would get for him. There were only two girls he actually liked - his Mommy, because you have to like your Mom, even love them, and Harley, because she was just cool. She kept his feet warm at night by sleeping on them, and she always clawed Cameron for being mean to him. All the other girls could just go to Puerto Rico.

Although Jake had never been there, he knew it was a bad place. He hated Puerto Rico, because his Daddy had to go there a lot, and, when his Daddy went away, he didn't get to see him. His Mom became sad, Francis wasn't as fun, because he was always so serious, Cameron was even more grumpy than usual, and the worst part was that his Dad wasn't there to tuck him in at night. Instead, his Mom did, and she wasn't as good at reading travel books to him as his Dad was. Whenever she read to him about places far away, places that he couldn't even say, she always fell asleep before he did, and that's just not how bedtime stories were supposed to be. Plus, his Dad always said how much he hated to go to Puerto Rico and how he always couldn't wait to come home when he was talking to him on the phone, so Jake figured it was a pretty bad place, so all the girls he didn't like could go there and stay there - forever!

His Daddy wasn't in Puerto Rico that night, but he still wasn't there to tuck him in yet. His Mom had told him that he wouldn't be home in time, but he wasn't giving up hope until she came in to read to him. Instead, he and Harley were sitting up in bed, quietly waiting for someone to arrive with a book in hand. Occasionally, he would sneak one of the candy hearts he had hidden underneath his sheets. Some of them he ate himself, and some of them he gave to Harley even though she only licked them and then turned away. Those he would eat, too, even though they had cat drool on them. After a couple of seconds in his mouth, though, all he could taste was the candy, so he didn't care. When he wasn't eating the candy, he was fidgeting, tapping his foot and biting his lip, trying to fight the fact that he was getting sleepy.

It was past his bedtime. Normally, he had already been tucked in at that time of night, but, with his Daddy working and his Mommy acting goofy, Jake just figured one of them would get there soon. Well, that was if his Mom didn't fall asleep first. She was always tired. Daddy said it was because she worked hard at the hospital and then she worked hard later when she came home, cleaning the house, washing their clothes, and cooking dinner. He tried to help her though. So she wouldn't have to work as hard, he would hide his dirty clothes under his bed so she wouldn't have to wash them, and he would let Harley lick his plate clean at night so she wouldn't have to wash his dishes, but, even with his help lately, she was even tireder than normal... which was _really_ tired.

That afternoon, she had fallen asleep in the car on the way home from the hospital. Cameron hadn't noticed, because he was too busy doing his homework, but Jake had been playing with his matchbox cars, running them all over the seats and up and down his Mom's arms when she had started snoring. He didn't wake her though. It was funny watching her snore, because he never knew when she would make the silly noises that came from her nose. So, he would watch her, and every time she snored, he would jump and giggle. It had been fun, and, when they got home, he had been mad at Francis for waking her.

Then, later, when she was folding laundry and watching some boring grown up show on TV, she had rolled into a ball and taken a nap on the couch. Instead of watching her snore though, he had gone into the kitchen and found the secret, hidden cookie stash, eating as many as he could until his tummy was full. Harley didn't eat her cookie that he gave her, so he had given it to Cameron. Just the thought of his big brother eating a cookie his cat had licked made Jake giggle, and, when he started to giggle, Harley licked his bare toes in response. That tickled him, so he only started laughing even harder, and, before he knew it, he was laughing so hard, he had tears running down his face and his belly hurt.

"And what's so funny?"

Instantly, he stopped, turning towards his Mother's voice in the doorway and grinning impishly at her. While he spoke, he made sure that all his candy was well hidden underneath his sheets. He didn't need her to find them, because, then, she'd take them away, eat them herself, and make him brush his teeth... again... and he HATED brushing his teeth. The toothpaste was yucky, Harley would scratch him when he tried to hold her mouth open long enough to brush her teeth with his toothbrush, too, and it was boring just standing there in the bathroom in front of the mirror. He couldn't even make silly faces because he couldn't move his mouth or all the toothpaste would fall out. Though he did enjoy spitting it out, and he and Cameron would always try to see who could get the most foam.

"Harley was tickling me."

"Oh, she was, was she? Well," his Mom teased him as she slipped into his room and sat down beside him on his big boy bed, "maybe she shouldn't sleep in here anymore if she's going to keep you awake."

"She was just helping me wait for you. She knew that you still had to come in to kiss me goodnight and read me my bedtime story."

"That's because she's a smart cat." Jake nodded his head so hard in agreement, he made himself dizzy and started chuckling again. "Okay, enough of that," his mother instructed him, pulling up the blankets and, without any words, telling him to slide down so that he was laying flat on his back. "You need to get to sleep, because, otherwise, you're going to be grumpy in the morning."

"Nuh uh," he argued with her. "Cam's the grumpy one."

"Actually, he never fights me in the mornings when it's time to get up. He likes getting up early like your Daddy. You, My Little Pumpkin," she told him, bending down to kiss his blonde hair, "are the one I have to wake up about five times every day. You're just like me. I hate getting up in the morning, too."

"Mommy, don't!"

"Don't what?"

"Don't call me your Little Pumpkin. That's a girly name," the three and half year old protested.

"You know, when you were born, I called you that, and your Dad wrinkled his face just like you did there, and I knew that he hated the nickname. I promised him that I would quit calling you that before you could remember it, but I can't help it. You'll always be My Little Pumpkin."

"Couldn't I be your Big, Tough Soldier or your Strong and Scary Monster," he asked pleadingly. "Those are cooler names, Mommy."

"Yeah, but they're not as cute."

"Yuck," Jake protested, sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry to make her understand just how much he hated both his nickname and that word. "Cute is for girls. I'm manly... like Daddy."

"Yes, you are," she agreed, ruffling his hair before turning out his bedside lamp. "But, now, my big, tough, strong, scary, manly son, it's time for bed. Get comfortable so I can start reading to you."

"Hey Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Is Dad going to be home soon?"

"I don't know," his mother answered, thinking about her response before she said it. "I haven't talked to him since this morning, but he told me then that he'd be late tonight, too late," she added meeting his gaze in the shadowed dark thanks to his nightlight, "for him to read you your bedtime story."

"But Harley likes when he reads to us," the child protested. "He doesn't fall asleep like you do."

"Well, Harley, I like it, too, when Jake's Daddy reads to me, but what if we don't read from a travel book tonight," she suggested. "What if I just tell you a story instead. Would you and Harley like that, Jake?"

Before replying, he thought about her idea. His Dad's stories were always cooler than his Mom's He would tell them about motorcycle rides or how to play pool or sometimes even about the fights Francis and Max and Milo and the other guards got into when they were arguing. They were always stories for boys, and he never told them about girly things. But, when his Mom told them a story, she often told him about things from when he was little, embarrassing stuff that made him look like a baby, but she never fell asleep when she was telling a story, so it was better than her reading to them.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But make sure it's not boring. Make sure it's exciting... like something _Indiana Jones _would do or _John McClaine_."

His Mom rolled her eyes. "I really need to make you stop watching movies with Francis, but, for now, I'll see what I can do with this story." For a few minutes she was quiet while she thought of a tale to tell him. "Did your Daddy or I ever tell you about when the Metro Court exploded?"

"Really," Jake became excited, so much so that he tried to sit up but she pushed on his shoulders gently to get him to lay back down, "like a real bomb? No, I haven't heard that one. Please, tell me about it, Mommy. Please!"

"Alright, well, it was quite a few years ago. In fact, you weren't even born yet. You were in my tummy still, and I was at the hotel for a party. Sonny, Carly, and Nikolas were there, and your Aunt Emily was still alive then, too, but, before the party could start, bad men came into the building and wouldn't let us leave."

"How many bad men?"

"Hey, now," his mother warned him. "You can't interrupt me. You know the deal. When it's bedtime, I talk and you have to listen. Otherwise, you won't fall asleep."

"Sorry, Mommy," he quickly apologized, eager for her to continue.

"Well, to answer your question, there were quite a few bad men, but their leader was the meanest. We couldn't see who they were, because they had on masks, but, eventually, they started to hurt people. That's when you decided it would be a good time to be born, but it was too early, and I was scared that if I had you, you'd be sick, and there would be no one there to help you get better. So, I talked to you, I drank a lot water, and people tried to keep me as calm as possible so that you would settle down and go back to sleep in my tummy. It didn't help; nothing really helped, and, then, the bad men got angry and decided to blow up the building. Just when it was about to explode, out of nowhere, your Daddy comes in, picks me up, and whisks me off to an elevator. All around us, the building exploded, but we were safe, and, because I was with your Daddy, you calmed down and went right to sleep."

"So Daddy saved you; he was your hero?"

"Your Dad has always been my hero," she confessed, smiling brightly at the idea.

Yawning, Jake admitted, "he's mine, and Cameron's, and Francis', and Harley's, and my little brother's hero, too."

Despite the fact that he was ready to fall asleep, he could hear the weird sound in his Mom's voice when she asked, "what do you mean? What little brother?"

"The one I want for my birthday," the three and half year old answered on a whisper before finally dozing off. His last thought was that maybe his Mommy was cooler than he thought; maybe, just maybe, she was an even better storyteller than his Dad.

... but probably not, because she was still a girl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part Five**

She should have known better. Whenever Jason wasn't home at night, she could never sleep. Despite knowing that a guard was posted outside, that they had a state of the art security system always engaged, and that Jason kept them as safe as he physically could, Elizabeth could never really relax enough to fall asleep unless her husband was beside her in bed. That's why Sonny always had to give Jason a few days off when he returned from extended business trips. While he was gone, she'd run herself ragged, working and taking care of the kids with little to no sleep, so, by the time he got back, he had to hold down the fort while she recuperated. Even though she knew he would be home eventually, that his assignment was not an overnight one, she was already abnormally tired because of the pregnancy, one he, she had to admit, knew nothing of because she was trying to surprise him, but all she wanted was for her husband to come home, wrap his arms around her, and go to sleep next to her so that she could rest as well.

If Jason had known about her pregnancy that morning when he had gotten a call from Sonny, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have turned down the all day long stakeout job, but that was one of the reasons why she hadn't said anything about the baby yet. After all the problems she had with Jake, the premature labor, the ruptured placenta, and then bleeding out and almost dying after surgery, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Jason would be beyond protective of her for the next six and half months, even to the point where he hovered, something she hated. Plus, if she waited until she entered her second trimester, the risk of miscarrying decreased greatly, and, since it wouldn't be her first time miscarrying, there was no need to get her husband's hopes up if she was only going to lose the baby. On top of the pragmatic reasons, there was also the fact that, for once, she wanted to be the original gift giver.

Jason was amazing. Long ago in their past, she had told him how unique the gifts were that he gave her, and, since that moment, he seemed to make it a point to continue the pattern. It didn't matter what he got her, what she loved most about his presents was the fact that he put so much thought into them. That's what told her he loved her. She had never understood how other women could equate love with expensive jewelry, fur coats, or even extravagant purchases of art. To her, expensive gifts with little thought meant that the person giving them was simply trying to buy their significant other's affection, but, thankfully, Jason wasn't like that. He showed her he loved her everyday. He showed her how deeply his feelings ran for her by being the best father he knew how to be to the boys; he showed her with the little thing he did for her like going outside in the middle of winter to clean off and start her car for her so she didn't have to do it herself or by simply offering her one of his rare, true, completely content smiles, because he only seemed to give them to her and their children.

But now it was her turn. She wanted to do the same thing for him - give him a gift for Valentine's Day that proved to him just how special and important he was to her. Elizabeth knew that the holiday itself meant little to her husband. She could admit that Valentine's Day was more of a created holiday so that certain industries could make some money to improve their first quarter profit margins, but it was the closest holiday to the three month mark of her pregnancy, so she was running with it. By no means was she trying to make it a competition between them to see who could come up with the most original gift, but, as she climbed out of bed intent upon scrounging up a snack in the kitchen... perhaps some wine cheese and crackers, she smirked to herself. Even though it wasn't a competition, she was so going to kick Jason's ass.

... well her and the little bundle of joy growing rapidly in her abdomen would.

"Isn't that right, little one," she spoke to the baby, rubbing her small, artistic hands over the very slight bulge that was just starting to reveal her pregnancy. It was so slight that Jason hadn't noticed it yet, but, on the other hand, between the kids, their hectic schedules, and life in general, sometimes she believed it was a miracle that they had managed to find time to conceive a child in the first place. It was not surprising that her husband hadn't seen her naked in a few days.

With that in mind, she found herself really hoping that she was hit with the second trimester _neediness_. "Sorry, baby," she quickly apologized to her stomach. "I know you don't want to hear about this kind of stuff, but you should get used to it, because your Daddy is hot, and sexy, and attractive, and he has these eyes that just make me want to... Anyway, with our third kid on the way, we're going to have to take advantage of all the time we have left before you're born, because, afterwards, it'll just become that much harder to find time alone. You understand, don't you?"

Just as she reached the top of the stairs, the urge to go to the bathroom hit her, and she paused to ponder the situation. It wasn't an immediate emergency. If circumstances went her way, she could go downstairs, grab her bananas and chocolate syrup to eat in bed, and stop by the bathroom on her way back to her room, but, when she was pregnant, things often didn't go her way. She could find some toys in her path and be forced to picked them up because of the nesting instincts she was currently battling, or the drop of room temperature when she temporarily opened the fridge door could send her scrambling for the steps and upstairs where the bathrooms were before she even had a chance to grab her midnight snack. So, with those roadblocks in mind, she huffed, narrowed her eyes in annoyance, and grumbled the whole way back to the master bathroom.

"Forget morning sickness," Elizabeth remarked sarcastically. "This is the worst part of being pregnant. Unlike morning sickness, it never goes away; it just gets worse the farther along you go in your pregnancy. And, speaking of morning sickness," she realized, tilting her head in thought, "I haven't really been sick that much so far... not that it's a bad thing, mind you, but, with the boys, I was sick every afternoon. Weird." After finishing in the bathroom and washing her hands, she started back on her way again towards the stairs that would take her downstairs where the Jell-O cups the boys liked so much and cans of chilled black olives were waiting for her. That's when another realization hit. "Oh!" Eyes dropping in frustration, she halted and leaned back against the wall, hitting her head against the painted drywall several times. "Jake is going to have a fit."

There was no more time to ponder her younger son's response to the baby news, especially if her sudden suspicions of the sex proved to be true, because, at that moment, Harley appeared out of nowhere, rubbing against her leg and startling the mother to be. "You can't do that, Harley," she admonished the cat, bending over to pick the chubby pet up. "No more almost tripping me when I get up in the middle of the night. It's one thing if I fall when I'm not pregnant, but, if you make me fall now, not only could the baby get hurt, but you can bet your last whisker that Jason would skin you alive and make himself a cat-skinned hat to remind all your fellow feline friends what would happen if they got in my way. So, you need to stay in Jake's room at night. Get your litter box business done before you go to bed, and no more startling me. Besides," the soon-to-be mother of three sighed, "who knows what's going to happen to you. Babies and kitties tend to not mix well. You might have to be temporarily relocated until the baby is old enough for you to come back home, but we'll cross that bridge when they get there. For now, you're going back to bed with Jake, and I'm going downstairs to make myself some breaded mushrooms. Doesn't that sound good?"

Harley purred in response... probably more so because Elizabeth was paying attention to her, talking to and petting her, but she liked to think it was the cat's way of showing her approval for the desired snack of choice. After depositing the family pet under the covers of her younger son's bed, she went back towards the steps but only made it half way there when she noticed that she was cold. Although she had fallen asleep during the ten o'clock news, she had flipped to the weather channel to check on the night's forecasted temperatures. Apparently, the weatherman had been wrong - shocking! - because, if he had been right, her flannel pajamas and socks would have been warm enough to wander around the house in at five minutes to midnight. Quickly deciding to change, she slipped on the one piece, footed pajamas that her Gram had given her for Christmas. If nothing else guaranteed her sleep, they would. Jason found them quite humorous but not sexy at all. She didn't really blame him, but they were extremely warm and comfortable.

Before leaving her bedroom, she paused long enough to go over a short mental check list to make sure that there would be no further interruptions to her mission. Her stomach needed satisfied, the baby wanted fed, and her mouth was simply watering for some canned tuna dipped in ranch dressing. Chuckling to herself, Elizabeth mused that it was a good thing she shut Jake's door, because, otherwise, Harley would have been attacking her hands for the chance to participate in her late night snack.

Cresting the top of the stairs and out of the ear shots of her sleeping children, she started talking to her little baby bump again. "You know, maybe I shouldn't have a snack. They recommend that people eat six to eight small meals a day if they want to lose weight, so, since I'm supposed to gain it, does that mean that I get to eat twelve to sixteen meals a day, and, if so, I fell sufficiently behind on the count today." Reaching the landing, the pregnant mother of two, kept talking. "Besides, it's been almost six hours since I last ate anything substantial. That means a fourth of the day has passed by without me giving you anything nutritious to nibble on; 1/1,120th of my pregnancy has gone past without me taking proper care of you. For those math skills alone, I think we deserve some celery... with peanut butter... and raisons... and chocolate chips... and butterscotch sauce... and whipped cream. Giggling, she made it to the doorway in the living room which led to the back of the house where the kitchen and, more importantly, the fridge and food pantry were located. Without second thought, she rushed through the door and proceeded on her way, never once bothering with turning on a light.

"And a bowl of wedding soup with oyster crackers."

Licking her lips at the thought, another popped into Elizabeth's mind. "And sherbert, raspberry, of course, for dessert."

By the time her feet touched down on the cool tile of the kitchen floor, she was practically skipping around the room to reach her stomach directed target. Pulling the fridge doors open, she just started reaching for various things, removing them and holding them in her arms. Once everything was selected and accumulated on the island counter top, she would figure out exactly what she wanted to eat, and, if Jason was home by then, she would use the excuse that she was up to make him something to eat and then he'd help her. Was it sneaky? Was it slightly underhanded considering the fact that taking care of her husband wasn't the first concern on her mind? Yes, of course it was, but, if she played her cards right, she could blame her less than stellar behavior on the pregnancy. If she had to carry another person inside of her for nine long months and swell up to the size of a allergic bee-stung blue whale, then she'd reap as many of the benefits as possible; behavioral allowances was just one of them.

So, she grabbed a carton of grapes, the caramel ice cream sundae topping, a box of Velveeta cheese, a bottle of ginger ale, some spicy mustard, a tube of frosting, and, for good measure, a fresh clove of garlic. Tossing the supplies on the counter, she turned back to the freezer, but, because there was no light in the colder section of the fridge, Elizabeth quickly scampered across the room, flipped the light switch and, then, went, immediately, back to work.

From the freezer, she removed a box of toaster strudels, mozzarella sticks, some of the fruity popsicles the boys liked so much, the ones in the plastic tubes, a frozen package of bratwurst, and a soft pretzel making kit. By the time she was finished, the soon-to-be mother of three was grateful that she had changed her pajamas. The house had been chilly enough thanks to the frigid New York winter without the aid of an open freezer, but, with the added drop in temperature, the thick, fleece, one piece figurative form of birth control she was wearing suddenly became one of the best presents she had ever received. Obviously, she laughed to herself, rolling her eyes, the baby she was carrying had been conceived before Christmas.

Armed with enough food to get her started, she pivoted around to the island and dropped the items currently attempting to give her hands frostbite onto the counter, but, before she could even open one thing, before she could take a single bite of her midnight snack, she saw it.

And she screamed.

It wasn't a meek, girly, I broke a nail scream; it was a blood curdling, nightmare inducing, straight from a classic horror movie scream, one that was loud enough to send the guard from outside running in, one that woke up Cameron, Jake, and Harley, one that Jason could hear from outside the house where he was parking his bike after finally getting home from the stakeout. But Elizabeth didn't care how loud she was or how much the scream scared the rest of her family. All she knew was that there was a mouse... no a rat in her kitchen, and the damned thing had killed her wonderful, friendly cravings.

Without wasting time, she jumped up on the counter, scooted across from it to the other side, and then used the counter to stand on so she could be as far away from the rodent as possible. If it bit her, she could get rabies, and, even when she wasn't pregnant, rabies would be bad, very, very bad, but, with a baby growing inside of her, she didn't even want to think about the consequences of picking up some contagious, filthy disease. Generally, Elizabeth liked to consider herself a strong, resilient, even tough woman, but sometimes...

She could deal with gaping gunshot wounds and stab victims who were bleeding out in front of her very eyes. She could clean up vomit without getting sick to her own stomach, give grown, unresponsive men sponge baths and clean them up after they soiled themselves without batting an eye, and she could even watch those ridiculous cable nature shows where wild beasts attacked each other and fought to the death, but there was one thing that could stop her in her tracks and make her panic, and that very thing was sitting on her kitchen floor, sniffing and scampering around as if it didn't have a care in the world, and all she wanted was for a man to come in and smash it for her.

If nothing else, it was proof that evolution had not advanced far enough to the point where men were unneeded. True, women could take care of themselves, they could provide themselves with all their basic needs, they could _entertain _themselves with the aid of a small machine instead of an actual man, and they could even have babies on their own thanks to sperm clinics that were stocked with so much male DNA, the male species could all be eliminated the next day and life could continue on probably indefinitely... all except for one little problem. Women, like her, needed men to deal with mice, with rats.

Milo was the first to arrive. "What is it, Elizabeth? What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself? Did someone get past the security system and break into the house? Did someone attack you and then flee when you screamed?" When all she did was stare at him with wide eyes, he pressed, "you have to tell me what happened, or I can't fix it." Instead of saying a word, though, she simply pointed and refused to look in the direction of the rodent.

Cam was next. "Mom, are you okay?" She could tell that her oldest son was worried, that he was concerned, that he was trying to remain calm and in control because he wanted to take care of her, and it only made her love him that much more. But then there was Jake who was already crying and clutching a withering and impatient Harley in his tiny little three and half year old arms, and, despite the fact that it was the opposite reaction to Cameron's, Jake's tears made her love him even more, too.

Jason was the last to arrive on the scene, and, by the time he stepped through the back door, chaos was ensuing, but he quickly reigned it in and captured everyone's attention. "What the hell is going on around here?"

Milo avoided his boss' gaze, knowing full well he was in for a lecture, Cameron wrinkled his brow in thought, Jake giggled at the fact that his Daddy swore and would be getting in trouble (he hoped his Mommy washed his mouth out with soap, because that's what she did to him when he said something he wasn't supposed to), and Elizabeth, once again, pointed towards the snack interrupting, mood ruining, generally displeasing rodent, her full bottom lip trembling with what she knew to be pent up, hormonal emotions.

Finally, she answered her husband, "there's a rat in the kitchen."

And, in that moment, all hell broke loose when Harley managed to escape Jake's tight grasp and ran straight for the wild animal currently causing so much turmoil in the Morgan household. Things, suddenly, had gone from bad to worse... and all because she had wanted a simple midnight snack of wine cheese and crackers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part Six**

He had been prepared for change when Elizabeth and her two sons, their two sons, had entered his life on a permanent basis. Hell, he had even welcomed it. The energy they brought to his existence made his previously dull and colorless life full of vibrancy and actual joy, two things he had been missing without even realizing it. His home had always been simply a place, somewhere he went to sleep a few hours every night, take a shower, grab some clean clothes, and check in with whomever it was at the time that was occupying his penthouse with him - be it a girlfriend, a fiancée, a wife, pretend or otherwise, or even just a slightly neurotic computer hacker he had taken under his wing.

Now, though, he didn't live in a cold and impenetrable fortress high above in a bullet proof tower; instead, he lived in the suburbs, in a house with a yard for children to play and shudders simply for decoration, in a real home. And, with that home, came change. He could no longer come and go as he pleased, showing total disregard for the people he shared his living space with. He could no longer stock his fridge with beer and only beer, no matter how much the idea still appealed to him sometimes... especially when his wife had, apparently, decided the middle of the night was a good time to clean out the fridge. And he could no longer expect quiet and peace after a long day on the job.

Normally, the confusion of his family brought a smile to his otherwise stoic face. Jason liked listening to his wife's excited rambling, her good spirits and laughter almost infectious but not quite. The children could always make him thankful for their presence in his life, even when they were sick or grumpy or crying and upset as they seemed to be that night, and, sharing little things like bedtime stories or snuggling in front of the TV as they enjoyed one of the movies the boys watched continually, made him grateful that his life was no longer silent and still. However, this - mad chaos, was not charming or endearing. In fact, it was simply annoying.

Elizabeth was just a step shy of completely losing control. Although, at a later date, he knew he would be able to have some fun with the fact that she was that fearful of rodents, at the present moment, he simply wanted the mouse or rat or whatever the hell the four legged creature was gone so they could go to bed. She was yelling things, things he couldn't quite follow and was slightly thankful for that fact, about diseases and her lack of ability to keep a clean house. Then, there were Cam and Jake... and Harley. When he had first walked in, the boys had been scared, but it seemed as if his peer presence alone had alleviated their uneasiness, and, instead of worrying about their mother, they were currently bickering over something unimportant while the cat struggled, scratched, and generally fought in an attempt to escape her surrogate owner's clutches. And, of course, he couldn't forget about Milo - his friend, coworker, and one of the men he trusted his family's safety to, and what was he doing? Absolutely fucking nothing. Standing back, his arms crossed over his chest with an amused smirk dancing upon his face, he simply watched the chaos surrounding them, leaving it to Jason to clean up the mess his family had made.

"Alright, first of all, Jake, before you end up missing an eye and we have to make an emergency trip to the hospital, put that damn cat down. Now!"

"Uh, boss," the young brunette guard spoke up, wrinkling his smooth face in disagreement. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

By the time Milo answered him, it was already too late. Harley was down, the rodent was on the run, and the cat was just one step behind its every move, planning and plotting its attack. They moved with absolutely no regard to anything or anyone in the room, knocking over chairs and running between legs, starting the boys and infuriating Jason. Despite the fact that he could clearly see for himself the mistake it was to allow Harley her freedom, his employee decided it was a good idea to explain anyway.

"Well, you see, the cat's going to give chase, and she won't stop until the thing is dead. If Harley was a boy cat, then he'd merely sit back and do nothing. They're lazy SOB's," Milo informed him.

"What's an SOB?"

Jake was ignored, and the bodyguard kept talking. "But a girl cat, it's their instinct to kill. It's the mother in them. And, I know," he stopped his boss before he could be interrupted, "I know that Harley has never had kittens, but that doesn't erase the urge. The good news is she'll take care of the little, harmless guy; the bad news is she'll make a mess doing so."

"See I told you we should have gotten a boy pet," Cameron spoke up, glaring at his little brother. "But you had to be allergic to my dog."

At the same time, his wife exploded. "Harmless? Little? Milo, that rat is huge."

And, of course, Jake had to have his say as well. "Shut up, Cammy," he taunted his brother, sticking out his tongue. "Your dog was ugly and stupid... just like you."

"Uh, Mrs. Morgan," Milo chuckled at the wide eyed, almost crazed woman. "You don't know much about nature, do you?"

"Alright, that's enough," Jason yelled, startling all those around him and ceasing their endless chatter. "Milo, if you have something to say, say it, and then get back to your post. When was the last time you did a perimeter check?"

"Right, boss," the younger man quickly agreed, nodding his head. "It's just... that's not a rat."

"Of course it's not a rat," the enforcer rolled his snapping, glacial orbs of blue. "I've seen rats before down by the docks. They would eat that mouse in a matter of seconds and still be hungry."

"You're right, they would eat _that__mouse_except for the fact that Harley isn't chasing around a mouse. What the hell did you do as a kid? Didn't you ever play in the woods or go exploring in the yard? Can't you tell the difference between a mouse and mole?"

"I don't know what I did as a kid, Milo. Remember - AJ, a tree, me, and the fact that my brain got scrambled?"

"Oh, yeah," the security expert blanched considerably, backing up a few steps away from his already enraged boss who was quickly becoming unglued. "Shit," he swore under his breath. "Sorry."

"Milo," Elizabeth yelled at him, stomping her foot down as harshly as she could on the cool, marble counter top. "You know better than to swear in front of the boys."

"You're not supposed to be listening," the young man whined. "You're supposed to be indisposed at the moment with fear." Pointing and pretending to be startled, he attempted to distract her. "Oh my god, look at the giant rat."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, recognizing that his wife was about to lose control of her temper as well. "Milo, go outside, do your job, and quit antagonizing Elizabeth... and me."

"Sure thing, boss," the bodyguard rapidly agreed. "But, just so you know, mole's are blind, so that's why he's just sort of running around without a clear path. They're harmless though."

"And dirty and disgusting," the mother of his children added. "I'm going to have to clean this entire kitchen from top to bottom tomorrow, not to mention take care of the kids, make dinner, and find time to go to work and do some laundry as well. Do you really want to mock me some more, Milo? Or maybe you'd like to volunteer for cleaning duty?"

The only sound the twenty-something brunette made was a loud squeak, similar to the sound a mouse might make, how fitting, before scurrying out the of the kitchen with both his tail between his legs and his head bowed in surrender. For the first time since he walked through the back door, Jason felt like laughing. His friend and employee had been caught, snagged, and reeled in. Whether he wanted to or not, Elizabeth would have him cleaning the next day right along side of her. Speaking of cleaning, though, his mind quickly realized, the mouse... or mole, whatever the hell it was, falling aside in his mind as its level of importance was usurped, his wife had been doing a lot of that recently, and, as he glanced around the nearly destroyed kitchen, he also picked up on the fact that she hadn't been organizing their fridge but planning on having herself a monolith of a midnight snack.

Getting a brainstorm, he opened the back door, snow swirling, cold enough to steal your breath winter air seeping into the otherwise warm house before the cat chased the blind mole outside. With that taken care of, Jason turned back to his family, folded his arms across his chest, and then glowered at them - all of them. If he wasn't so tired and annoyed, he would have been amused by the fact that the three of them began fidgeting and shuffling their feet in what he guessed was a combination of embarrassment, apology, and avoidance.

"Who wants to go first?"

No one said a word.

"Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, everyone," he met each of their gazes individually, "take a seat." Obediently, his wife and children took their seats at the breakfast table. "Now, who wants to tell me what happened?"

"I heard Mom scream, and I was worried," Cameron confessed, his deep, chocolate eyes full of honesty and warmth. "I got out of bed and ran downstairs to check on her. That's all."

"And Jake," the father of two prompted his youngest son.

"Harley got scared when Mommy yelled," the three and half year old replied. "But I wasn't scared. I brought Harley downstairs so Mom could calm her down."

"You're a liar," his oldest child accused his youngest, pinching Jake who only returned the gesture, starting an all out battle between the two siblings. "I saw you crying, you big baby."

"At least I don't have a girly name, Cammy!"

"That's enough," Jason yelled, pinning both of his children with a fierce, disappointed stare. "Do you know how sick I am of the two of you fighting? You, Cameron," he looked at the almost eight year old little boy, "you are mean to your little brother. You ignore him, call him a baby, and you refuse to play with him." Just as the younger son was about to snicker at his older brother's expense, the enforcer turned his glare towards Jake. "And, you," he accused the blonde little boy, "you tease your brother until the point where he's practically forced to be mean to you. And what have I told you about calling him Cammy? You know he hates it, Jacob Martin." He only used his son's full name when he was in trouble.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," the child who looked so much like him apologized. But it was too little, too late, and the father and husband knew it was insincere, that, as soon as his back was turned, Jake would be calling his older brother that again.

"Do you know who you're named after?" The toddler shook his head no. "You're named after a friend of mine and your mother's. HER name was Jake, too."

Cameron's eyes got wide with glee and amusement. "Did you say HER?"

"Yes," Jason answered, his expression never wavering. "I did. So, now, it seems as if your names cancel each other out. If you call your brother Cammy again, Jake, he can just taunt you about being named after a girl, and, if Cameron says anything about where you got your name, you can call him Cammy, so what's the point of teasing each other anymore."

For the first time since they sat down, Elizabeth spoke up. "I thought we agreed that we wouldn't say anything about Jake's name until the boys were older?"

"If they think they're old enough to fight with each other, then they're old enough to know all the facts," he returned, meeting his wife's disapproving gaze. He knew that look. She was upset with him, disagreed with his decision to confess the origin of their youngest son's name, especially since they hadn't discussed the decision together beforehand. "Besides," he added, smirking at her. "I don't think you really want to say anything to me right now. You're not exactly my favorite person at the moment."

"The feeling's mutual," Elizabeth snipped, kicking him under the table, a gesture designed to show her annoyance with him and get him to stop talking until the boys left, but he was past the point of restraint. All he wanted to do was get all their cards out on the table, settle things then and there, and go to bed, forgetting about his long, unfruitful day of sitting at a stakeout and about coming home to find his family in the midst of a meltdown. "Anyway," she kept talking, her tone changing from antagonistic to emotional, the tears she was suddenly close to shedding just simmering below the surface. "After the night I've had, I'd think you'd be a little nicer to me. That mole scared me half to death, and I..."

"You what?" As if she realized what she was about to say, her mouth clamped down tighter than he'd ever seen it, and he knew she'd never reveal her aborted comment at that point. "And you feel guilty for it getting into the house in the first place," he finished for her when it became apparent she wouldn't do it for herself. "Maybe if you wouldn't leave your candy lying around the house all the time, wild animals wouldn't sneak in thinking they could find some food."

"Oh, no," the mother of his children scoffed, disbelief tinging her words. "You did not just say that to me."

"I did," Jason confirmed, standing up and pushing himself away from the table. "And I have a right to, because what I said was the truth. If you want further proof, look around this kitchen. It's a disaster. Why the hell is all that food on the counter?"

Whispering her response, his wife admitted, "I was kind of hungry, so I came downstairs to make myself something to eat. I couldn't figure out what I wanted, so I got a few things out..."

Interrupting her, he gestured wildly to the large pile of perishables on the island. "You call that a few things?"

"... and before I could eat any of it," Elizabeth finished, almost sounding remorseful and not for the fact that the mole had disrupted their entire family's night but because she was still hungry, "I saw the rodent and became upset."

"You freaked out, Mom," Cameron supplied, breaking into the adults' conversation.

"Why are you still up," she snapped, pivoting around in her seat to question her son. "You should be in bed. Go upstairs, now." Without another word, she stood, moved to Jake's chair, and took his hand in hers, leading the younger boy towards the living room and the stairs that would take them to their rooms. "And you," she addressed her husband, anger dripping from her every word. "You can just sleep on the couch tonight. I really don't want to see you for a while.

As she and Jake disappeared, leaving him and Cameron in the kitchen alone, Jason had to laugh. That was something else he had been expecting once he got married - stupid fights that would banish him to the couch at night, but this had been the first time he and Elizabeth had been unable to solve and forget their differences before they went to bed, and, frustratingly, it was over something as asinine as a mole. He had a feeling, though, that there was more to the story than Elizabeth was admitting. Glancing towards the food splayed counter top, he shook his head. Much, much more.

"Alright, kid," he waved towards his oldest son, requesting that he stand up from the table. "Now it's time for you to return the favor. I told you about Jake's name, so, now, you have to help me clean up this kitchen."

"And you can stay in my room, too, tonight," the almost eight year old child offered. "You're too big to sleep on the couch, Jason, and my bed's big enough for the both of us."

"Thanks, Cameron."

"No problem," the curly haired little boy commented, grinning up at his stepfather. As they worked together to put away the food, he remarked, "Mom sure has been acting strange lately."

Simultaneously, they blurted out, "girls," sharing a knowing chuckle before returning to their work, cleaning in silence.

Finally, the kitchen was at least passable, so, while Cam turned off the lights, Jason let Harley back inside, locked the door, and followed his oldest son towards the stairs. He had a lot to think about before he could fall asleep. Everyone was right; Elizabeth was acting strange, but not strange enough that he couldn't make sense of her odd behavior. He just had to weigh the information he already had, look for more signs, and, eventually, confront her with his suspicions. However, the night had not been a total waste of time.

Despite the chaos, despite the fact that his wife was so irked with him that he had been banished from their bedroom, and despite the fact that he knew his youngest son would be mad at him come morning, too, two positive things had come from the whole mole experience. One, he felt as if he and Cameron were one step closer to becoming a true father and son pair, and, two, he now knew what Elizabeth was going to be getting for Valentine's Day. He just hoped he had enough time to get everything done that he needed to in the next few days. It would be tight, but, if nothing else, he worked well under pressure, and what was more nerve wracking than managing to surprising your wife, especially when you needed to do something great for her to get back into her good graces and the bed you shared together?

In his opinion, nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Harley and the Mole**

**Part Seven**

The boys were in bed, exhausted, and she and Jason had the entire night to themselves, but Elizabeth had no idea how he would be able to give her anything near as wonderful as the day they had just spent with their children. It was rare when you worked full time, when your husband lived such a complicated and demanding lifestyle, and when your children had commitments and activities of their own to spend an entire day without interruptions with just the four of them together, but Jason had managed to give that to her for Valentine's Day, and, as she collapsed into a warm bath, complete with soft lighting, comforting music, and the solitude of a quiet house, the mother of two, in that moment, believed that nothing, not even an original Van Gogh or an extended trip to Italy, would be a better gift.

And it certainly wouldn't beat her gift for Jason either... which she was going to give to him after they were snuggled down together in bed that night, perfectly alone with just the two of them while their kids dreamed on in their own bedrooms, obvious to the special moments their parents were sharing. It was going to be perfect, and nothing, she was determined, was going to ruin her surprise, especially since, after the wonderful day Jason had given her, he deserved only the best she could offer.

The morning had started without the alarm clock waking her. Blissfully, ignorantly, she had slept through her wake up call. Because her schedule had been conveniently changed so she had the holiday off, Elizabeth had not been required to get up at the crack of dawn. Epiphany had denied and then got annoyed with her when she had continued to ask about why she had gotten Valentine's Day off. Instead of answering, the curmudgeonly head nurse had griped about ungrateful young women not being satisfied or even thankful for life's small favors, walking away in a fit of mock indignation while ranting the entire time. Though Elizabeth had not received an answer or the confirmation she had wanted, she was still convinced that Jason had something to do with her rather fortuitous schedule, but, after encountering her supervisor's wrath by asking questions, she had let the topic drop.

So that was why at ten fifteen in the morning, she had woken up to a still home. Jason had gotten up early for her... not that he wasn't usually up early anyway... and had made sure the boys were washed, dressed, fed, and packed for school. After taking them there himself, he had returned home with breakfast from Kelly's, simply tinkering around the house, fixing odds and ends for her while he waited for her to get up on her own. He reattached a loose porch rail that been bothering her for a couple of days, cleaned the lighting fixtures for her because she couldn't reach them, and unclogged the boys' bathroom sink because she just hated doing that, and, by the time she woke up, all of his attention was placed upon her, and they spent the rest of the morning together.

While she ate her breakfast, holding herself back from asking for seconds and tipping her hand even more, he sat beside her in bed and drank coffee, smirking to himself the entire time. About what, she didn't know, and, when the mother of two, soon-to-be three, asked, he kept mum and simply averted his gaze away from her questioning one. It was frustrating, annoying even, but the sneaky man had distracted her with a nice, long motorcycle ride. She wanted to be mad at him for knowing he could get away with just about anything if his apology included a helmet, the wind, and going nowhere, but it was Valentine's Day, she knew something that he didn't, and she was about to become the original gift giver. Nothing could keep her mood down.

After their ride, they had returned home, switched vehicles, and gone to pick up Jake from the play school he attended three days a week at Daycare. With Francis being given the day off much to the chagrin of anti-romantic guard, the three of them returned home to just spend the afternoon together. Lunch was a pleasant affair, another meal of takeout so she didn't have to cook at all that day, and, following it, the three of them retreated to her studio where she and Jake painted and Jason worked on some part that went to his bike. Elizabeth didn't know what it was, and, frankly, she didn't want to. As long as it worked okay when he put it back on the motorcycle, that's all she cared about.

The hours passed quickly, and, before they knew it, it was time for Cameron to be picked up from school. Because the boys actually attempted to get along and managed to only have a few snits, she knew they had made a bargain with each other to not fight, but, instead of questioning it, Elizabeth had simply enjoyed it. After all, why fix something if it wasn't already broken, right? Then, dinner came and went, her third meal of takeout that day, and she savored not having to do anything. While she opened the card the boys had made her together, her three big, strong, apron wearing men, something they only did to appease her, cleaned up the kitchen, glaring at her whenever she tried to get up to help, and she had been forced to obey... even when they loaded the dishwasher wrong, even when they gave Harley some table scraps, even when they threw away the leftovers instead of simply packing them up in a tupperware container.

But biting her tongue had been worth it. Seeing the joy it brought her family to take care of her only reinforced her own fondness for being the one to do things for them on a daily basis. Once the kitchen was cleaned up according to their standards, the family retreated to the living room and played games together, keeping the television turned off and the conversation flowing much to her delight. Yes, sometimes it was nice not to have to think or do anything, to just collapse onto the couch and enjoy some mindless entertainment, but, at other times, it was even better to spend quality time with her husband and kids, especially when said quality time made the boys tired, and they went to bed earlier than normal. An early bedtime meant private couple time for her and Jason, it meant long talks in bed and hot chocolate, and it meant doing other things in bed besides talking.

There was only one problem to her plan. She was in the bathtub alone, and Jason was off doing who knows what, who knows where, and who knows why, and they weren't any closer to going to bed. After a whole day of being practically the perfect husband... despite his rather lackluster cleaning skills, Jason was really falling down on the job, but she was determined to get what she wanted, even if that meant getting out of the bathtub, putting on her ridiculously skimpy pajamas bought purposely for that evening, and going in search of him. So, that's what she did, and, during her whole trip down the stairs, she cursed her M.I.A. husband, because, with every step she took out of the steam warmed bathroom, she felt another dozen or so goosebumps springing up on her freshly shaven legs. Talk about a mood killer, and she sure as hell wasn't going to shave her legs again. If she ended up with prickly thighs, Jason was just going to have to deal with it. After all, it was his fault anyway.

Grumbling further as she stomped, albeit quietly so as not to wake up the kids, down the stairs, she added, "stupid man," under her breath, rolling her eyes at the sheer fact that she sounded just like her boys. Still, she wasn't going to admit that to Jason. He didn't need to know that she had perpetually gotten into trouble when she was in elementary school, and he sure as hell didn't need to know that she was the queen of picking on her older siblings when she was growing up. In fact, she was so much like Jake that she knew she allowed him to get away with more than she should, but she just couldn't help it. When she saw her three and half year old, she remembered pulling some of the same tricks he did and how it felt to both be ignored by her brother and sister and what it was like to be the only one punished by their parents. Luckily, Jason picked up her slack in the disciplining department.

"You really shouldn't talk to yourself."

Jumping and almost falling down the stairs, Elizabeth reached up and clutched at her chest, looking out and finding her husband's grinning features just so she could glare at him. "Don't do that," she whispered harshly, taking the rest of the risers rapidly to reach the living room and the spot where he was standing, waiting for her, by the front door as quickly as possible. "I could have fallen down the steps."

"Well, maybe you should try being more aware of your surroundings," Jason suggested. Crossing his arms over his t-shirt clad chest, he demanded to know, "and what did I do to warrant being called a... what was it... a stupid man?"

And, just like that, he went from being a perfect husband to an irritatingly smug one. Why did he have to have such great hearing, and why did he always have to know when she wasn't paying attention? Was it fun for him to sneak up on her and scare her half to death? He should know better than to do that to a pregnant woman, and, even though she hadn't told him yet that she was, indeed, pregnant, Elizabeth still wanted him to realize that she shouldn't be startled.

Finally answering his question, the nurse replied flippantly, "you're a stupid man because you just talked yourself out of getting sex tonight." Seeing the crestfallen look upon her spouse's face made her want to grin in achievement, but she bit back the amusement, prepared to torture him further. "I even shaved my legs while I was upstairs taking a bath, and I put on this," she pointed to herself, pivoting around in her short, midnight blue nightie to model it properly for him, "on for you, but, then, you decided to be a typical man. You made me wait for you which you know I hate doing, so I had to come down here to find you, making goosebumps break out on my legs, and, as the cherry topper on a giant ice cream sundae, you scared me. So, as punishment, as soon as I give you your Valentine's Day present, we're going to bed... to sleep and not with each other."

"I bet I can get you to change your mind."

Elizabeth snorted. "Highly doubtful, Jason."

"What if I make you one of those giant ice cream sundaes you just mentioned?"

"Well, to do that," she informed him, "you'd have to go to the grocery store, and I know how much you hate doing that, because, yesterday, I finished all the ice cream, and the chocolate syrup, and the whipped cream, and the cherries, and the caramel, and the butterscotch, and the chocolate chips, and the strawberry sauce, and the horse radish sauce, too."

Disgusted, her husband asked, "you put horse radish sauce on your ice cream?"

Realizing what she just admitted, Elizabeth's eyes became wide, but, to avoid him, she simply changed the subject. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you can't make me a sundae which means you can't get what you want either."

"So are you saying you don't want to have sex," Jason challenged her, catching her off guard by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. Although she pretended to struggle, secretly, she was glad he was holding her so tightly. Not only was he helping her warm up, but she did like being in his arms. "You know, it's been a few days..."

"Not my fault," the mother of two defended herself. "You were the one who decided it was a good idea to taunt me about my candy."

"Speaking of which," Jason announced, releasing her much to her chagrin. "I haven't given you your present yet."

"But I thought today was my present, having the day off, you staying home from work and turning your cell phone off, all the family time we had with the boys and them going to bed early."

"Well, that was a part of your gift," he admitted, "but we should do that kind of stuff for you more often just because..."

"Just because," Elizabeth prompted him, wanting her husband to fill in the end of his statement. When she noticed him avert his face and scrub the side of it, she knew he was embarrassed, and all she wanted to do was chuckle because, even after being together for several years, Jason was still slightly uncomfortable with overly romantic declarations of his feelings. She found it endearing, cute even, but, if she would tell him that, it would only make matters worse, make him even more embarrassed, so she withheld from teasing him.

After shuffling his feet for several silent moments, the father of her children finally replied, "because we love you," underneath his breath. Just as quickly as the admission was out, he changed the topic, striding towards the dining room table where there were more than a dozen boxes, all wrapped rather haphazardly, she assumed, by the children, of various sizes. "Here," he motioned towards the presents. "Open them."

So she did, a bright, wide, excited smile lighting up her makeup free yet glowing face the entire time. As each gift was revealed, her already rapidly beating heart sped up some more. Each box held a candy dish made of rich, authentic, Italian glass, the shades varied so there would be at least one for each room.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you about the candy," Jason stated apologetically. "I know sometimes you don't even realize that you leave it laying around in odd places, but, this way, there's a place for it to belong now."

"They're beautiful," she whispered, in awe, as her long, artistically inclined fingers slid over and memorized each graceful line of the dishes. "But the mole was in the house just a few days ago. How did you get these made and here on time?"

Grinning mischievously, her husband bragged, "I have my ways."

"I'm sure you do." Looking back at the red and blue, green and purple, pink and clear dishes, Elizabeth continued, "and they're already filled with candy - Valentine's Day hearts, my favorite." Reaching for a piece to eat it, she missed Jason's eyes rolling at her favorite comment, but, even if she would have seen it, in that moment, she was too distracted, too full of love for the father of her children to care. Placing the tiny, mint morsel into her mouth, she was prepared to savor the sweet until she realized that it wasn't what she thought it was.

"Jason?" Questioning the man beside her, she turned to face him, a screwed up, confused expression marring her otherwise content features. "Where the hell did you buy these things? I think they're bad."

"No, they're not."

"Then what the hell are they, because they definitely don't taste like they're supposed to?"

"I had them specially made," he confided, glancing back at the candy before meeting her inquiring gaze again. "Why, don't you like them?"

"They're... interesting," Elizabeth hedged, not wanting to hurt her husband's feelings. "But they don't exactly taste like candy."

"Well, that's probably because they're not; they're antacids, Tums to be exact, made into the shape of hearts."

"Excuse me?"

In that moment, the giant, almost boyish smile she so rarely saw on Jason's face came out and illuminated the entire room... at least it did in her opinion. "Tums," he explained. "You know, the things you inhaled constantly when you were pregnant with Jake. I noticed even though you didn't realize that I did, and, since you're going to be giving me another child here in a few months, I figured you'd want to be stocked up for the rest of your pregnancy."

He knew. The stupid, slimy, incorrigible, overly confident, sneaky, mocking, annoyingly always right, STUPID man KNEW!

There went her surprise.

There went her gift to him.

And there went her first and probably only chance to be the original gift giver in their family.

With no other option because she didn't want to wake up the sleeping boys upstairs, Elizabeth was left with glaring at her husband, pinning him down with a glower, she hoped, would rival his own enforcer glare, the glare he had, though he denied doing so, passed down to their youngest son.

"Ugh," she moaned, forming her small hands into fists and barely managing to restrain herself from using them on her husband's face as he rocked back and forth on his feet in a self-satisfied manner. Abruptly turning around, she marched her way to the steps only to be lifted off her feet and carried up the long flight of stairs in the very capable arms of the father of her three children.

"Thank you," he murmured into her ear, kissing the smooth, sensitive flesh beneath it, his hot breath warming her entire, previously chilled, body with that one, simple, erotic movement. "I love my gift," Jason continued, making her toes curl in anticipation as they reached their bedroom door and he kicked it open only to return it to its former position by the same means. "A baby for Valentine's Day is the best, most original present anyone has ever given me."

Further words weren't shared as they celebrated the rest of the holiday and the news of their unborn child together, and it was the perfect ending to the perfect day that her suddenly perfect again husband had given her for the only perfect Valentine's Day Elizabeth had ever experienced. But that still didn't mean she didn't want that ice cream sundae. Gasping as the delicious sensations her husband was causing inside of her wrecked havoc upon her already vulnerable and sexually tender form, the soon-to-be mother of three melted into the luxurious bed beneath her, enjoying her final and most stimulating gift that evening.

For the moment, she would forget about the craving their flippant words from earlier had inspired within her, but, after they were both completely finished, their sweaty forms sated and properly exhausted, she couldn't promise anything. Jason had gotten off easy the last time she was pregnant; maybe it was time for him to learn just how_wonderful_the experience of impending motherhood could truly be. With that thought in mind, she spiraled out of control, diving under the waves of orgasmic bliss only her husband could grant her, staying there with him, drowning there, under the water for as long as she could, savoring not only the release their love had granted one another but the fact that, once they resurfaced, Jason was going to go to the grocery store for her, and she was going to get both that proverbial cherry to her perfect day and the literal one for her ice cream sundae.

Life with Jason and their kids was good; it was beautiful, it was right, and it was pretty damn tasty, too. But, now, she had to figure out a way for St. Patrick's Day to top Valentine's Day. Beating the father of her children in the original gift giving department... among other things... was addicting, and, if nothing else, being pregnant made her feel even more competitive.

It was definitely going to be an interesting next six months.


End file.
